


Show Off

by zenelly



Category: Tales of Graces
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Exhibitionism, Light Masochism, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-01-19 11:36:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12409584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenelly/pseuds/zenelly
Summary: Really, Asbel thinks, he should know better than to bring anything up to Richard without putting some plans in motion to circumvent how he's going to react. Sure, he talked to him very honestly about some of the fantasies he had about Malik and Richard, but he didn't expect anything to actually happen.That was his first mistake.





	Show Off

**Author's Note:**

> COUGHS look so this is something I have literally no excuse for but when the opportunity presents itself for some threesome porn, you just go for it. I've been watching a lp of this and just. Richard has some issues. I love him. And Malik is desperately attractive and I just wanted asbel caught between them.
> 
> Plus, y'know, uh. Richard's throne is made for fucking.

Really, Asbel thinks, he should know better than to bring anything up to Richard without putting some plans in motion to circumvent how he's going to react. Sure, he talked to him very honestly about some of the fantasies he had about Malik and Richard, but he didn't expect anything to actually happen. That's his first mistake. Maybe Richard would get a little more possessive. Watch him closer and mark him deeper, and Asbel  _loves_  that, wants it. At least when he's underneath Richard, he knows exactly what he needs to do. He knows he's loved.

Right now, watching Richard hold Malik back after a meeting, Asbel isn't feeling the love. 

He hurries up, closing the small distance between them quickly, just in time to catch the tail end of what Richard is saying, his voice low. 

"I've seen how you look at him, Malik," Richard says. "I don't blame you. I do much the same, and Asbel certainly doesn't object to the attention."

Malik's shoulders straighten. He shoots a look at Asbel, almost like he can't quite help it. Asbel makes a face. He's not sure if it's supposed to be encouraging or not. He doesn't really know how Malik is even really reacting to this conversation because Richard is still very clearly in King-mode. It gets difficult to confront him like that. Still, Malik tries his best. "I'm uncertain where you'd get that idea, your Majesty. I hold your relationship with Asbel in the highest regard."

"Not what I was talking about. I was thinking that we should have a chance to explore this. I am a magnanimous man. I can be persuaded to share. I am not angry about this, provided you meet us in the throne room tonight. We can discuss this further then. Acceptable?"

Malik is quiet for a long moment that he spends examining Asbel's face, as though ascertaining Richard's honesty. The examination, the scan of Malik's eyes up and down his body, sends a flush of heat zinging beneath Asbel's skin. It's... a little thrilling, and when Malik reaches his eyes, Asbel returns the look steadily. They hold the gaze. Then Malik nods. "Yes, your Majesty."

 

* * *

 

Asbel isn't quite sure how their discussion ended up like this, either, but he isn't protesting very hard. Can't, really. There are other, better things he can be doing with his mouth. Like trying not to moan loud enough to wake up the entire city of Barona. Soft, slick noises fill the room, echoing around the spacious chamber, filling the spaces between muted groans.

The tile is cool beneath Asbel's hands, where he's braced, kneeling before the throne. He can feel Richard's eyes on him like a physical presence. Like they're his hands, sweeping across Asbel's hips and thighs, instead of Malik's. Perhaps in a way, they are. It was Richard, after all, who got them here. It was Richard's orders that had Asbel stripped down before him, Richard's orders that he kneel and accept his gift for his continued loyalty. His orders are why Malik is fingering him open, the wet thrust of his fingers more than Asbel can bear. He bites his lip, his next inhale staggering and uncertain.

"Alright, that's enough," Richard says. "Bring him here."

Malik slows, and Asbel feels achingly empty with his retreat. Words crowd his skull, pleas and bargains all at the forefront. Anything, anything to focus on. Anything to get him off. A hand catches him by the elbow. Asbel follows its urging up, leaning heavily against Malik's solid, warm body to keep himself steady. "You okay?"

Richard doesn't give him any time to answer. "You wanted this, didn't you? Come up here, Asbel. Kneel before your king."

Asbel swallows. He does want this. Truly, he does. "Richard, I'm-"

"I'm well aware. Come here, Asbel."

Shaking at the cold touch of air on his overheated skin, Asbel does. The tile before Richard's throne is freezing on Asbel's bare feet. Asbel is about to kneel when Richard's voice halts him. "Not there. Here."

And when Asbel looks, Richard pats the throne's seat. Right beside his legs. He can't mean... But he must. Richard hardly does things he doesn't want to. Asbel will have to be careful; he doesn't want to slip, but at least the throne's seat is padded a little. Kneeling on the marble while Malik fingered him open already hasn't been kind to Asbel's knees. 

Carefully, Asbel settles himself on the throne. One leg first, then the other, knees on the outsides of Richard's thighs, comfortable for the time being as the seat's padding cradles his sore and pinked joints. He raises himself up, looking down at Richard, whose bright eyes consume him. Richard, in stark contrast to Asbel, is completely clothed. Not a vulnerable inch of skin on him is exposed. Even down to the black gloves on his hands. The difference only serves to twist Asbel up more. He  _likes_ Richard like this. Clothed and staring at Asbel like he's a prize, like he's something precious.

Malik steps in behind Asbel, familiar and warm, and Asbel shifts just the slightest bit to breathe in the scent of his skin, to feel the heat from his body.

The king's legs spread just then, jolting him off balance as Richard shoves Asbel's knees wider. Asbel slaps out a hand. He manages to brace himself on the back of Richard's throne, but the jolt-

Fuck, the jolt.

Sends him straight back, rubbing against Malik's cock. He's fucking  _huge._ It's easy to forget how big Malik is when Asbel isn't right up against him like this, cock thick and heavy against his ass, when Malik isn't about to be inside him.

Malik's hand on his hip is a searing brand, anchoring Asbel in his skin. 

"Asbel," he murmurs, his lips on Asbel's neck. Asbel can't help but reach back, steadying himself between the two of them. Malik didn't have to do this, but the fire in his eyes when Asbel had suggested it said otherwise, doubled when he looked past and met Richard's sure gaze. 

Helpless to the arousal twining its aching way through his body, he gasps, "Captain."

He's  _right there_ , the head of his cock a teasing hint of pressure against Asbel's opening, the promise of a stretch more than he can bear. He wants it. God, Asbel wants it. Wants his mind to be wiped clear of anything aside from the avarice in Richard's gaze, the ownership, because here, at least, he belongs and he doesn't have to question it. Richard is proof enough of that, and where Richard retreats, Malik surges forward. 

Here, he is owned.

Here, he is safe.

They're talking around him, as Asbel moves against Malik's cock in hitched little motions, trying to get them both to break faster. The tightening of Malik's hand is the only warning Asbel gets before-

Press and  _in_. Asbel's moans take on a desperate quality. He can't stop them, can't change them, because he is desperate. He wants so much, so much  _more_. He can take it. He can take anything they need him to, because Asbel lives to serve. Right now, with the steady thrust of Malik's cock splitting him open, he serves. Malik, following Richard's quiet, sure direction, sets up a steady pace, hard enough that Asbel can't take his hand off the throne behind Richard, deep enough that he keeps shoving back for more.

"Asbel," Richard says, intent on each syllable. "You're making too much noise."

Something about the way he says it drives Asbel crazy, fanning the flame that burns him from the inside out only hotter. He can't help the sound that drops from his mouth any more than he can stop his hips from jerking back against Malik, pressing him harder and deeper inside. No matter how much his knees hurt, he can take more. He can. "Ri-Richard, I-.  _Please_ , please, Richard, I can't-"

"You can, and you will. Be quieter or the guards are going to wonder what you're getting up to. And wouldn't that be a surprise? The true Lord Lhant, fucked open by a redeemed traitor before his king? I don't want anyone to become confused as to who you truly belong to, Asbel. How does it feel, Malik? Is his body treating you well?" 

Asbel whines but swallows the noise as best he can.

It takes Malik a moment to gather himself enough to answer. He's been quiet aside from low groans and grunts in Asbel's ear, his baritone rumbling all along Asbel's back. "He's excellent, your Majesty. He feels-. Just as good as I thought he would. As much as I'd dared to hope."

Richard smiles, pleased. Reaches up with his free hand. Tap, tap, tap, and his gloved fingertips pry open Asbel's mouth. He welcomes them, allowing the digits in, allowing them to press on his tongue like they're holding it in place. Carefully, Asbel seals his lips around the intrusion, sucking to mimic what else he could be doing with his mouth right now, and Richard's eyes, fixed on Asbel's mouth, darken.

He breathes, in, out, very deliberately, and leaves his fingers where they are.

It is the only place, Asbel realizes with a rush of heat, that Richard is actually touching him.

There's something to it, though, something to the way that Asbel is here, nude, his knees on either side of Richard's thighs as he reclines on his throne. Something about how vulnerable he is. Something to how powerful Richard seems, as unruffled as he ever is in court, even with his gloved fingers in Asbel's mouth. Something about Malik, too, fucking him senseless, a tight bundle of heat unspooling through his entire body. Asbel hopes he doesn't have to meet Richard in here to discuss serious business; he's never going to be able to look at the gilded throne without remembering this.

"You'd better not get my clothes dirty, Asbel," Richard murmurs. Then, louder, "Fuck him harder, Malik." 

"Yes, sire."

He loses himself there, panting around Richard's fingers while Malik relentlessly fucks him. His thighs ache. His knees too, though that has become part of the pleasure as well, the pain ameliorating into white-hot sensation. Every bit of him shaping like a blade to a purpose.

"Come, Asbel," Richard orders. Like any other option is completely unthinkable, his voice and eyes sharpening. Dangerous and deadly and all for him. Focused, entirely, on the bow of Asbel's body. On the way his thighs flex, driving Malik deeper. "For me, Asbel. Do it now."

It's so much. Too much, honestly, and Asbel can only hold out so long before his body reaches an inevitable fever pitch. Malik hasn't slowed down at all, and his thrusts have only become more pointed, aimed at the spot in Asbel that makes him light up and tighten and whine. He wants to come. Richard presses harder on his tongue, forcing his mouth open, forcing the choked, punched out noises to be louder. He does, he  _wants_ to, but his body  _won't_ , a burning fire that seems like it'll never end. Richard lifts his head from his hand, reaches out.

Grabs a nipple and twists it cruelly. The spike of pain, unexpected and sharp before it turns sweet, makes Asbel cry out.

"I said  _now_ , Asbel."

And with a helpless sound, Asbel does, desperate, gasping for air around Richard's relentless hand and between Malik's punishing thrusts. It's agony and bliss all wrapped up together. He wants it all to stop but it feels so good he has to keep going, driving himself with shaking legs and quivering body. Finally, though, Malik has mercy on him and shudders, biting hard on the join of Asbel's neck and shoulder as he comes with a hot rush inside Asbel.

"Look what a mess you made," Richard murmurs, finally trailing his fingers out of Asbel's mouth, down his chin, directing Asbel's eyes to the white splatters of cum on Richard's fine clothing. It demarcates a trail from his chest to his hips, gathering on the fabric straining over Richard's erection, and Asbel swallows, roughly at first and then again. "I told you to keep my clothes clean, Asbel."

"My apologies," Asbel gasps. "Richard, I'm sorry, I-"

"I was going to let you ride me, but I think you've messed that up, haven't you? Asbel, you need to clean up the mess you made." Richard spreads his legs pointedly. "Don't you agree, Captain?"

Malik grips the back of Asbel's neck, firm and deliberate. He hauls Asbel back, and Asbel goes willingly, the sensation of being manhandled so easily sparking his already exalted nerves. Eager, he doesn't wait for Malik to press him down, for any further urging, because he wants to be good, he wants to make Richard feel good, so he's already leaning over to lap at the fabric with his tongue, cleaning Richard up.

A gloved touch pushes through Asbel's hair, fisting and holding him where Richard likes. Asbel mouths at the increasingly damp fabric, feeling his way around Richard's hardness as Richard's breath goes more unsteady, until Richard swears and yanks Asbel away to undo his pants. They open enough for his dick to show before Richard and Malik both push Asbel's head down.

Groaning, Asbel swallows the head, hollowing his cheeks as he lets Richard and Malik set his pace.Setting his feet on the ground beside Asbel's knees, Richard thrusts deep into his mouth, and the hot press of Malik's hand at the back of his neck refuses to let Asbel retreat. All Asbel can do is swallow, and swallow, and swallow, accepting the intrusion and sucking as much as he can, letting his tongue lie soft and flat and broad for Richard to thrust against. Richard's hand tightens in Asbel's hair. It's the only warning he gets before Richard thrusts one final time, hard, burying Asbel's face in the soft blond curls at the back of his cock, and bitterness floods his tongue.

Through it, Asbel just breathes and knows that he's done a good job, that he's done what he's supposed to do. Knows, here, that he belongs. He swallows until there's nothing left to swallow, until first Malik and then Richard release his head, letting him sit back up.

"Asbel, Asbel," Richard gasps, "come here, please, Asbel-"

And Asbel surges up, climbing into Richard's lap and settling his weight solidly across his king's thighs. His knees and legs are aching, but it's a secondary sensation to Asbel pulling Richard close, kissing him again and again until the franticness leaves Richard's eyes. 

"Are you alright?" Malik asks, quiet and gentle, his hand pushing Richard's damp hair back from his face.

"Y-Yes, I-. I just. I'm fine," Richard says. Asbel kisses him again, deep and insistent, and when he pulls back, Richard is smiling just a little, one of Asbel's favorite expressions on him. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you for worrying."

Malik nods. He pauses, uncertain, then bends to brush a kiss on a startled Richard's upturned cheek. "I'm glad to hear it. Asbel?"

Without further urging, Asbel leans his head back, accepting the kiss Malik gives him too. He grins, first at his captain, then at Richard. "Thank you, to you both."

"Anytime, Asbel," Malik murmurs. "I believe, however, that I will leave you both and go to bed. Have fun cleaning up, you two."

Asbel grins sheepishly at the sight of his very disheveled King beneath him. "We do have to make it back to your room without getting seen."

Richard makes a clicking noise with his tongue. "No one will say anything."

"Not about you, no."

His eyes narrow dangerously. "If they know what's good for them, no one will say anything about you either."

"Richard..." Asbel sighs, shaking his head. "Come on, let's just... let's go to bed, okay? Grab your cloak and let me get my clothes, and we can go to bed together."

And Richard, threading their fingers together, smiles. "Very well, Asbel. Together, then."


End file.
